


Heavy Weight

by justanotheranonymouswriter



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotheranonymouswriter/pseuds/justanotheranonymouswriter
Summary: Canon divergence, so that there can be elevator porn. Set in 3x08, after Harvey fights Stephen. Donna comforts Harvey. Harvey comforts Donna. A 'what if' missing moment.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen & Harvey Specter, Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Heavy Weight

When Mike called his cellphone a couple of hours ago, Harvey had heard the gravity in his voice, heard the underlying fury as he said 'you need to get here now' and that wasn't like Mike so he dropped everything and hailed a cab. Harvey didn't know what was happening or what to expect. What Harvey did not expect to do was to finish his evening with a split lip and a split eyebrow and with Donna looking at him out of the corner of her eye as if she was personally responsible for his continued existence on earth. He can feel her gaze on him, feel her looking at his knuckles and the bruise starting to pepper under his eye socket.

He pushes his hand flat against his collar bone, stretches his muscles out against his palm, winces a little. Little shit had been strong and he was going to feel their fight for a few days. He wasn't looking forward to having to stretch his body out of bed in the morning. He was worn out, shaken flat with the ends of adrenaline pushing through his veins, spiking up every now and then and making his hands twitch, grazed knuckles stinging with the spasms. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home, sitting sprawled out on his couch, stinging his split lip with the last dregs of a glass of whisky and waiting for sleep to come claim him.

Instead, he was perched on his couch in his office, self medicating with Macallan 18 while Donna asked him if he was okay for the tenth time and ran her thumb against his lip to check if the bleeding had stopped or not, and he still wanted to be home but he thought that this wasn't so bad either. He ticked through the evening's events, calculating the likelihood that weasel would press charges and what the next steps would be but he kept blanking out on his calculations and having to start over.

She was fucking distracting.

Adrenaline had cracked his fist against Stephen's smug face and broken a mirror against his back, but it had also drawn Donna in sharp relief against Harvey's fight blurred brain. He was too aware of her warmth, her skin, the way her fingers skirted over his cheek, too aware of her hair and how it would feel to drag his hands through it and pull her against him, and he tried to shake that feeling ( _it's just the adrenaline_ ) and go back to the calculations about pressing charges, but it's too hard so he drinks his whisky and worries the glass between his fingers.

He'd said it wasn't a duel, and he hadn't been lying. Well, he had been, but mostly to himself, because what else could he have done but lie to cover the fact that the sense of betrayal sitting in his chest had only turned to pure, righteous, black out anger when he had heard _I'm so sorry Harvey_ and turned and she was standing in front of him with her heart cracked open. There was a reason Donna had point blank asked him if he had done that for her, gone after him for her. He'd been so obvious. So he lied and it's second nature to him anyway. He's convinced himself, most of the time, that they're friends. Just friends. Okay, she's a friend who he regularly finds himself thinking about when he daydreams, or showers, or sleeps, or kisses someone else, she's a friend who he imagines a forever with, but secrets it away in a corner of his mind that he forgets about, mostly, until she kisses someone else and it bothers him.

She won't let him comfort her, won't let him say her name in the way he does when it's not her fault, and she leaves his office because she doesn't want to talk. Harvey sees doubt in her, and it's new though it shouldn't be. Of course she's doubted herself. He's seen it. Saw it when she destroyed the memo, when Louis accused her in mock trial, when she packed a box and left the office after falling on her sword for him and he was too much of a coward to say anything. She doubts, he knows. She's human. But now he sees doubt sitting deep in her soul where he's never seen it before. She feels different to him, hesitant and bitter and somehow a bit smaller. Donna had opened herself up to Stephen and he reached into her and changed her.

Stephen is lucky Harvey didn't fucking kill him.

Harvey nearly throws his tumbler against the wall, but there's no point so instead he makes a plan with Mike, and then tells himself to go home, get some sleep, and hopes he can take his own advice, but he thinks he won't. He thinks he'll stay awake all night, pacing, wearing a hole in his floor and wanting to go back out, find Stephen, and see how round two works out for them both.

The adrenaline is back and he's suddenly restless and irritable. There's exhaustion sitting just under the surface but he doesn't feel it in his bones yet and it's easy to ignore. He has a knot in his shoulders and a pit in his stomach and he can feel limbs twitch with the need to shake the nervous energy out of his system. He fiddles with his suit jacket, threading it through his hands as he approaches the elevators.

Donna is there, waiting for the lift. She's going home too. This night and that asshole have bled that doubt into her core, and she is quiet and contemplative and shaken. Harvey stands next to her and squeezes his fingers into his palms, and he wants to grab her hand but they're friends who don't touch. He thinks about what he can say to fix her, but Donna is not an idiot who can be placated with a bullshit pep talk and he is not smart enough to find words that don't sound like bullshit. So he doesn't say anything and neither does she.

They wait for the doors, step in and turn together, and they don't look at each other.

The elevator door shuts.

They stare straight ahead.

Harvey feels the floor bump, watches the numbers start ticking down, and says, "I lied."

She looks straight ahead. "You lied," she murmurs back.

"It was a duel."

There's an unspoken signal and he looks at her at the same time she looks at him and she breathes in sharply and then he's closed the gap between them, his hands cupping the sides of her face as he kisses her with the unleashed desperation of someone running for home and for shelter, his bottom lip pushing between both of hers. He feels her freeze for one godawful second while her brain catches up to his body. He thinks he's totally misread everything and she'll push him away and he'll have utterly fucked everything up. But then her arms are around him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt like she needs it to stay attached to reality and she kisses him like he's gravity.

He's all energy, all tension and strength and he's pushed up against her with such a sudden fervour that she takes a step back and her shoulders hit the wall of the elevator, and she runs one hand up over his cheek, the other sliding around the back of his head to run her fingers along the curve of his neck. He slicks his tongue into her mouth and tickles a finger along the edge of her ear and she makes a noise deep in her throat that feels like it's completely outside of her control. He's out of breath, feels light headed and he's breathing so hard he can't quite close his lips against her mouth so he nudges his lips and tongue over hers instead and she murmurs 'Harvey' into his mouth and he thinks _oh fuck this is what I've been missing I'm a fucking idiot_. He drags his hands down her sides, around the small of her back, down her hips, everywhere he's thought and fantasised about touching her for a hundred years. He snakes his fingers under her dress to get to bare skin and she's perfect.

Donna is finding her purchase against him, he feels her lean in against him, pressing her body against his. He pushes back, she's pinned between him and the wall; he feels something shift fundamentally inside her and suddenly he isn't in control anymore and he thought he was leading her but he realises she's flipped it and it's the other way around. She scrabbles a hand behind her, finds the emergency stop button, presses it and the elevator grinds to a halt as she hooks her fingers into a loop on his pants and pulls her tight against him, hitching her dress up just a little so she can pull her leg up against his hip, dig her heel into the back of his calf, and he feels himself twitch against her and pushes his hips against hers, it's automatic and he's helpless against her and _holy shit this is happening_. She wraps her arms around him, tugs his shirt out of his belt, pushes her hands against his skin at the small of his back, fingers dancing into his waistband and she's a fucking goddess and he has to stop kissing her so he can lean into her neck and breathe heavy against her skin and try to catch his breath because it's too much.

She kisses his collar bone through his shirt, she's tugging at his belt buckle and he feels it slacken as she loosens it off and then his pants are open and she slides a hand over his briefs and traces the length of his cock under her palm as he bites her neck to keep from swearing. He's hard against his briefs, hard against her hand, and she teases her mouth over his skin, nuzzles his earlobe and he has to lean one hand against the wall behind her to steady himself. He's made the admission, made the first move and yet she is somehow completely in control.

He pushes his free hand over her hip, bunching fabric under his hand and wrapping fingers under her thigh. He hitches her leg up firmly against him, slides his hand up between them, and he tries to take his time and tease but she says "Harvey, now" and so instead he slides his hand inside her panties and finds her clit with two fingers, draws lazy circles over her. He feels her flush damp against him and she pushes her head back against the wall and he just stares at her, slides a finger inside her and she makes a noise that's primal and desperate. It shakes through him and he thinks it might have changed him in his bones.

Donna lifts a hand over her head, searching blindly for purchase and he reaches up to her, links his fingers through hers, squeezes her hand, and she opens her eyes and he's there with her and there's a moment there where they're looking into each other's eyes but he thinks they might be looking into each other's futures, and his world narrows down to just _Donna_ and the revelation of his skin against hers, of his heart thundering in his ears, of his belly pressed against hers and his fingers inside her. She's looking into his eyes, she has him by the soul, and he can only stare at her like he's been in the desert and she is fresh water and he doesn't even think he breathes as she holds his gaze, slides her hand to his cock, and he doesn't blink but feels a heavy breath push through his teeth as she strokes him out of his pants, slow and assured and she looks at him like trust.

She lifts her leg, hitching higher, and Harvey slides his hand from her, presses his hips closer and she guides him to her pussy, using the head of his cock to massage her clit and she lets her forehead drop against his and he genuinely doesn't think he can take much more of this woman, she's unbelieveable and overwhelming and he's not sure this is even real. But then she's sinking onto him and he's moaning against her mouth, and he's holding her while she wraps her legs around his hips. She braces her shoulders against the wall for purchase, pushes into him, and Harvey leans his chest into her. She tips his head back, kisses him, cups his jaw with her hands and she fucks him, what the hell else can you call it when Donna is slid tight over him in a work elevator with the stop alarm covering their moans and she is setting the rhythm, grinding her hips against his until he hits her just the right way and she gasps 'fuck. Harvey.' into his cheek.

He holds her and she rocks against him, pushing back and forth and he feels like he should maybe close his eyes but he wants to remember this and so he keeps his eyes open and maybe she's feeling the same because so does she and she kisses him while they look into each others eyes. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve this. She's pulling her hips along him, pushing him in and out, he can feel her stretching around him with each thrust and she's tight and _god_ and he loses his train of thought.

It's in the middle of his brain going blank and her holding his eyes with his own that he sees her, really sees her in all her beauty and fire and strength, sees her reclaiming who she is and the certainty that she is connected to the people around her, to him, she is connected as much as she has ever been and it's not her, she's not broken, it was him lying to her with his body and his eyes, but he can she him looking into his DNA and she _knows him_ and it banishes any fear from her.

He's too far gone, it's all he can do to stay upright and he can feel his release starting to coil in his belly, he's not going to last but who the hell would in these circumstances, so he drops her slightly to push his pelvic bone against her clit and she throws her head back and holds on to him like he's holding on to her and then says she's going to come and he doesn't think he's heard anything in his life that's as earth shattering and then she's coming apart around him. He leans his forehead into the crook of her neck and thrusts into her a couple more times and then he's coming too and he's saying her name like a prayer and his mind goes white.

She recovers before him (he's just proud his knees haven't buckled), cups his chin, bumps her forehead against his and smiles with her whole being at him, and he finds himself smiling back all the way up to his eyes, and they both know this isn't the start of anything, because it can't be, he is still her boss and they still have their rule, and this will need to be filed alongside the other time in his memory, but he will also remember this when he lies awake at night and thinks about the future, and he will remember it when he smiles at her through glass office walls and doesn't tell her he loves her.

But she squeezes his hand in hers and straightens his tie before they let the emergency stop off, and he knows, they both know, this would be something if it wouldn't be the ruin of them.

And when he drops into bed that night, he doesn't think of Stephen and punching his smug face.

Instead, he thinks about Donna.

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is humbly and gratefully welcomed. It's been a whirlwind getting involved in writing for this fandom and in the community. Thank you for your support!


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